


Shake It Out

by septmars



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septmars/pseuds/septmars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luhan comes home from work, feeling more depressed than usual, and Sehun comforts him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shake It Out

**Author's Note:**

> The beta'd version of my fic [here](http://septmars.tumblr.com/post/33301924832/shake-it-out-a-hunhan-fanfiction). Many thanks to al and my sis for being such wonderful betas.

It’s one of those days when Luhan’s workload is too much for him to bear. Either it’s a difficult client or a tough case, he always comes home opening the door with a bit more force than necessary, throws his briefcase to the sofa, before reaching for the drinks cabinet to mope around the TV.

This happens a lot that Sehun usually leaves him be. But today is different. Luhan comes home not slamming the door like usual, but opening it so quietly that Sehun almost miss it (keyword being almost). He does not curse loudly, but instead stays silent, undoing his tie without uttering a word. To most people this does not raise any red flags, but Luhan is so vibrant and full of life that this total silence is an extraordinary anomaly that tells Sehun maybe his boyfriend’s problems are worse than he thinks.  
So he quickly fixes his favorite drink, and slips next to him while he’s watching TV with dead, sullen eyes. He wraps his arms around Luhan’s shoulder then plants a quick kiss in his cheek to gain his attention.

“What’s wrong, hyung?” Sehun whispers in his ear, handing him his drink. Luhan does not answer. He gulps his drink without even muttering a word of thanks. Sehun knows that if he does not tread carefully, he’ll just make things worse. So instead of saying anything further, he puts his head near Luhan’s throat and his hand in his chest, listening to his soft, rhythmic breathing and takes notes on how his chests rise up and down. They’ve been together for so long that he doesn’t need words to tell him that he’ll always be here, will always be there for him, will always listen.

“Work,” he finally mutters. Hearing this, Sehun cups his face and gently turns it so that he can meet him in the eyes, to look in those brown eyes that are usually so full of laughter. Luhan looks at Sehun’s calm brown eyes, and he realizes that maybe his situation isn’t so hopeless after all, because even if it is, he can always turn to Sehun for comfort.

Before he knows it, words start to pour out of his mouth. Sehun listens thoughtfully, nodding at the right moments. When he’s finished, cheeks red because of the relief of getting all those toxic waste out of his system, it’s Sehun’s turn to talk. He comforts him in a way that only _he_ can. His advices are blunt and soothing and so _Sehun_ that Luhan might’ve laughed if he’s not so fucking depressed.

In the end, Luhan rests his head on Sehun’s shoulder, eyes barely open. His lover’s words are softer now, and Sehun starts rubbing small circles at the small of his back, relaxing him and making him sleepier. He’s still in his work clothes, the TV’s still blaring a rerun of Boys Over Flowers, and an empty glass of alcohol is sitting nicely in the coffee table—yet, he doesn’t care because Sehun’s with him, singing him soft lullabies in equal parts Mandarin and Korean and he really doesn’t care if his bosses are constantly on his trail, if his clients refuse every advice he gets them, if everything and everyone are out to get him, because Sehun’s here and maybe he doesn’t have it bad after all.

With this in mind, he falls asleep as his boyfriend asks Brother Jacques why he’s sleeping when the church bells are ringing.

The next morning, he wakes up in the sofa in his jammies, his head resting on a soft pillow, his body wrapped in a warm blanket. The TV’s turned off, the coffee table is all clean, and there’s a faint smell of fresh bread in the air, along with the sounds of the electric kettle.

Luhan sneaks into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Sehun’s waists from behind, and quickly kisses his cheek. He laughs when Sehun makes a lame attempt to protest, but he will not let go, will never let go, because he is his rock and he will be lost without him.

So here they are; Sehun making pancakes, Luhan nuzzling his neck, breathing in the scent of his soap and his shampoo (lemon-passion and strawberry-swirl respectively) and Luhan thinks yes, he doesn’t have it bad after all.


End file.
